Very Much Alive
by mollysgonemad
Summary: Bored out of his mind, and restricted to the use of disguises and illusions, Loki is restless for some entertainment. But opportunity presents itself in the form of Lady Vera, an Asgardian noble and vigilante, who entices the Prince and brings about more adventure and danger than either of them bargained for. Set after Thor: The Dark World.
1. Strange Meeting

_Loki's POV_

The sudden coldness in the air surrounded the mischievous Prince, as he teleported himself out of the grandeur of the Throne Room, no longer disguised as his father. He arrived in his chambers, Odin's sceptre still in his hand.

Loki glanced at it, and his sense of accomplishment left him as quickly as it had come. It was finally in his possession, and yet it felt all too foreign for him, irregardless of how often he had seen his father holding it, how the Prince imagined having it himself. He was never destined for equal consideration, for anything worth remembering. Who really cared if he was still alive, other than his adoptive brother and oh-so-loving father, he asked himself.

He thought about Frigga, how distraught she would have been in her grieving, crying herself to sleep, never leaving her chambers, barely eating… He tried to push away the horrible memory of the last words he said to her, the thought of her last breath, but they wouldn't let go of his mind.

The doors were enchanted, the curtains shut. He was alone, and he didn't need to hide his pain behind a mask of composure, he had worn it out for too long now. The Prince set down the sceptre on the chair closest to him, before he sat down at the edge of his bed. The urge to tear his chambers apart was almost overwhelming, as his fingernails dug into the emerald green sheets underneath him.

Seconds before he could consider setting something ablaze, a thought came to him. Loki rose up to grab a thick, blue book on a shelf across the room. It was rough to the touch under the dust he rubbed off, and nostalgia washed over him like tidal waves over a stony shore.

The spell book belonged to the Queen, and was made his when she gave it to him as a birthday present centuries ago. Loki skimmed through it, stopping every now and then as he became wrapped in his memories.

He could still remember when Frigga taught him specific spells as a child, how to move objects with his mind, make things disappear and reappear. If only he could make _her_ reappear, he thought. Before he had last spoken to Thor, Loki was posing as Odin and claimed he did not want to be disturbed in his grieving. Thor was not King, but he would be carrying the responsibility of peacekeeping for now, along with Fandral, Sif, Volstagg and the others.

In reality, Odin was so grief-stricken that he had been in Odinsleep for some time now, and was bound to wake up soon. At least, it was a possibility until Loki had hidden his father away and enchanted his incubator so he wouldn't awaken unless the Prince lifted the enchantment himself. He'd have to keep up this charade for some time, he knew, but that wasn't going to interfere with his mourning, at least not yet.

* * *

Days passed, and Loki hardly did much different, as he flicked through more spell books to pass the time, or laid on his back staring at the ceiling, thinking about nothing and everything. It was some nights later, when he couldn't stand being inside the palace any longer, without the comfort of his mother. He decided he would down his sorrows somewhere away from his home, free from the shadow of his supposed martyrdom.

Peeling himself from his silken sheets, he strode to the nearest mirror he could find, and looked into his red-eyed reflection. He hardly ever saw himself so distraught and vulnerable, at least not in the last few decades. But moments later, he couldn't see the crimson lines in the white of his clear eyes, even though the blue irises remained in his Guard disguise. _It shouldn't_ _be this easy_ , Loki thought to himself, _how can it be so easy?_

After he had made his way to one of the taverns closest to the outskirts of the city, he finally settled at a table alone, drinking the first of many intoxicating beverages as he intended. The wine felt like air to starved lungs as it moved past the dryness of his mouth.

He was on his third glass when out of the corner of his sight, he noticed a figure circled by larger and tougher brutes. " _This should be entertaining,_ " Loki muttered under his breath. He turned his guise's blonde head towards the brawl that was to ensue, before he realised that the hooded figure was not shrinking away from those attempting to intimidate.

One of the men, a bearded, dumb-looking lout, placed his thick hand on the person's shoulder. Without meaning to, Loki felt a sense of genuine understanding, he knew what is was like to be surrounded by people who belittled him.

But he was not expecting the shriek that escape the same man's mouth, staring in disbelief at his gushing hand, a small blade buried in his palm. In an attempt to escape, the hooded figure sprinted out of the tavern before the men noticed, as they were clearly too busy with their wounded companion. However, one of them ran after the stabber, and to avoid rousing suspicion, Loki followed in suit, as he was still disguised as a peace-keeping guard.

Outside the little tavern, the night was pitch black and the stars were hardly visible in the sky. The yells and growls of the large oaf were audible enough for Loki to find him, along with the stabber. He walked casually in the narrow street till he was in their proximity, terribly tempted to turn either one of them into toads or rats, or whatever he was in the mood for.

Yet he couldn't do so without sabotaging his pretence, and so he watched the figures duel in the dark, his presence barely noticeable to the preoccupied persons. No one was around, he could have walked away easily, slipping back into his true face in the comforting void of his chambers. But then his attention was caught when he heard a loud thud, followed by the hurried footsteps of the other.

 _The hood triumphed_ , so it seemed to Loki, as he peeped from the corner of the gloom, and was aware that the figure was nearing him. The prince often felt like a good scare, but he didn't plan on what was to follow.

* * *

 _Vera's POV_

 _Well, he's out of the way. Now, where to go…_ Vera asked herself, before she decided to go back the way she came and slip into the night. She turned to the left as she reached the end of the street, and she stumbled backwards till she hit the stony ground, her hands protecting her from hitting her head.

As she processed that there was a guard standing in front of her, she tried to hide her already-evident surprise. "I don't suppose I can get away with this now, can I?" the woman inquired, hardly bothering to look up at the man.

"You're-" Loki began, but he was cut off by Vera, who finally met his gaze. She sounded like she dealt with more than her fair share of surprised, condescending men. "A woman, yes. "How improper, how shameful". With all due respect, I've been on the same end of this exchange for decades, so if you could be so kind to spare me your-"

"As amusing as this bravado of yours is, you will gladly find that I was merely pointing out the cut on your hand," he interrupted. He wasn't going to lie, he was admittedly amazed at this woman, though not in the ways she had predicted. There was a fire within her, and it was fierce even in the face of capture. He liked that sort of defiance in people.

"Oh," she murmured, looking back at the crimson-stained hand under her black cloak. Before she could even blink, the red cut was covered by a green glow, shimmering in the darkness for a moment before it dissipated into the light breeze of the summer night. She tried to process the act, bewildered by his illusion. Loki didn't mind, however.

"How can you be a wielder of magic? The last Asgard had seen of them were Queen Frigga and…" Realisation donned itself onto her face, it was the astonishment in her eyes and her mouth which was open in disbelief.

"How… Everyone thought you were dead." Vera admitted, almost inaudibly. It was evident to the Prince that she was in disbelief, despite her calm reaction.

"Well, they don't call me the trickster for nothing, now do they?" he replied, extending a hand to pull her up. "And what of your large friend here?" Loki asked, his other hand gesturing towards the mess of a man that lay against the wall. Vera met his steely gaze once again, yet she tilted her head away as she spoke, "What of him?" her voice more controlled, as if he'd just probed her enough to infuriate her.

"I suspect he'll awaken soon, maybe he should do so in a less familiar form…" a slight grin spread across his taut lips, his eyes unmoving from the still figure at the side of the road. His intentions seemed clear to Vera soon enough,

"So am I right in assuming you're going to turn me into a rodent as well?" this time her gaze appeared defeated, but her voice failed to give that away.

His blue eyes were piercing into her hazel ones, and it felt like there was a shared sense of anticipation. "No, you're not. But if you do decide to contradict popular belief and inform anyone of my… return, then my face will be the last you'll ever see." And with that, he vanished himself into his chambers, leaving Vera to absorb the evening's turn of events. When she was alone, the idea of Loki coming after her made her hairs stand on end, and strangely, she was too intrigued to determine if she wanted him to or not.


	2. Cruel Attraction

Loki spent the following days enveloped in his books once again. However, he often ended up staring at the pages, his mind trailing to other places. The woman's face was strangely difficult to forget, he knew as of yet that he didn't need to sketch her visage to remember who she was, in case he'd resort to finding her again.

At the same time, Loki was faced with the next banquet that would take place at the palace, and the presence of Odin was expected. He knew he couldn't keep up the facade of the King's mourning without producing some form of suspicion. So once again, he replaced his face, his existence, with that of his father.

After he arrived in the Banquet Hall, Loki eyed the grand seat at the usual table where Odin would sit, amidst a sea of elegance. Thor and his friends had one of their own. The ambience of the room was unlike any other within Asgard, its measure of grandeur had no equal. The gold that wound about the alabaster walls gleamed as they reflected the various colours of different faces and plated armour and intricate gowns. The tables were sizeable and beautifully decorated, positioned in a large circular shape so as to make space for the entertainment.

All seemed as dull as Loki imagined it would be. He exchanged pleasantries with the most significant figures, and welcomed persons of varying ranks. As he was about to make way to his seat, he caught a glimpse of someone familiar walking past in a pitch black gown with silver bands around her left arm. Her hair was loosely tied in a bun, unlike the tangled waves he had first seen her don, and her expression was modest and dignified, yet he made her out nonetheless. Loki was hardly ever mistaken, and he almost motioned himself towards her, forgetting that he was still Odin.

The night went on, and Loki couldn't stop picturing Vera in her gown, which exposed her back, and was slitted at the right leg as well. It was taunting him, watching her disappear into the crowds, and reappearing again after lengthy periods of time, all the while she remained oblivious.

He grew impatient, as the hours that passed had no effect on this incessant image, and so he finally rose from his table, and announced that he would retire to his chambers, graciously thanking all who attended. As he made his way to the Throne Room's entrance, the doors shut behind him, only to find that he was not alone. The same slender figure that has him mesmerised for days was standing before him, her bare back to him, unsuspecting.

"Are you not enjoying the festivities, fair child?" he called out mildly, still the voice of a King was unmistakable. Vera turned on her heels instantly, amazement and embarrassment claiming her visage. She bowed her head in subservience.

"Forgive me, my King. I found myself in need of some air. It is a splendid reception."

"Yes, I believe it is," he mused, before motioning towards the lady, circling her as she stood still. Suddenly wary and uneasy, though she dared not insult her King. That was until she heard a different voice entirely.

"Though I daresay, my Lady, you do look ravishing," Loki muttered gravelly, his lips close behind her ear.

She could have jumped out of her skin in that moment, frozen as she realised who was really speaking to her. Once she felt a hand on her shoulder however, she gripped his hand and twisted on her heels to face the trickster himself.

"You really are full of surprises, Loki," she responded in a whisper, anxious that someone were to see them. Her eyes peered into the sapphire orbs of his own, his father's disguise completely undone.

"Do my compliments truly warrant such hostility" he asked coolly, looking up at her for a reply. Her gaze remained fixed on him, and he couldn't help but notice that she did look irritated. "Look, you need not keep a watchful eye on me, especially when you're out and about."

He gave her a cheeky grin, though he was taken aback by her choice of words. "Is that out of concern for my concealment, Lady Vera?" She let go of her grip on his arm, vexed by the contact between them.

"I have no plot to expose you so stop acting like a watchdog." The last word came out as a hiss, though Loki did not let it dissuade him. He could sense an awkwardness in her under the annoyance, so he pressed on.

Nearing her again, he murmured his question almost inaudibly, "Is it so wrong for me to admire a woman as stunning as yourself?" His mouth was next to her ear but he could sense her own shock.

"Maybe not, if you did so without that glint in your eye that makes me question my chances of leaving this palace alive tonight," Vera retorted, taking a few steps backwards, until her back met one of the tall pillars, resting against it, its cool touch soothing against her skin.

He followed, palms pressed onto the stone on either side of her, his forehead almost touching hers. With a low, husky tone he muttered "What makes you think you were ever going to leave tonight?"

Vera did her best not to let her breathing betray her, yet she could not deny that her heart was beating faster as she lost herself in those mesmerising chasms of blue.

"Do my gazes have such influence on your state of calm?" His cheek almost rested against hers, whispering. "I wonder if it's the only manipulation I can muster."

Suddenly, before she could process all that was happening, Loki's hand had gripped her waist. For a moment there was no denying her eagerness, yet sense took hold and she couldn't help but protest.

"We're at a party, hosted by _you_. Are you so enthusiastic that you would have your lordly invitees walk in to spectate?" she spoke in a heated voice that only he could hear.

Within moments, the Prince's free hand was at level with her eyes, and snapping his fingers once, the luminescent vastness of the Throne Room dissipated into the dimness of Loki's emerald chambers.

"Well, wouldn't want that now, would we?" He looked at her with a devilish smirk. His grip on her hardly loosened, yet she pulled away just the same, taking in her surroundings.

His room consisted of shelves filled with literature, volumes on the manipulation of magic and other kinds of books. She walked towards it, glancing at the titles, her fingers trailing over the leather covers, coarse from use.

Stalking behind Vera, his hands running from her shoulders to her wrists and back. Even as she could sense his touch travel along her skin, the world felt more still than ever.

"Why?" she simply posed the word, not sure of what she was even asking.

"Why, what?" he returned coyly.

"What interest could you have in me that would drive you to expose your face, when everyone thinks you deceased, mad, or envious?" she did her best not to let her voice waver, intimidated by her own desire.

"I have a better question to ask you," the prince replied, his words laced with lust. "Why not?"

Forsaking all inhibitions, Vera cursed herself inwardly as she turned around, her arms reaching the man standing behind her, while his own snaked along the small of her back. Their gazes met for a moment before she melted into his kiss.

His hands moved to her sides, one roaming down her leg until he found her knee, lifting it up as she ran her fingers through his raven black hair. She bit his bottom lip confidently, her tongue running along it to tease him further.

He groaned in response, his hold on her leg tightening. Caught between Loki and the book shelves, the feel of his arousal against her made her forget the discomfort in her back.

Her hands moved down his chest, tugging at the fabric, helplessly attempting to feel more of him. "A little eager, are we?" he rasped, his mouth trailing to her neck, leaving kisses till he heard her moan against his ear. He bit down on the area, and she froze for a moment, trying to contain the whimper that was caught in her throat.

"How do you get rid of these ridiculous garments?" she remarked, frustrated as he pressed his assault on her neck. Without a single flinch of his movements, both of their clothes had evaporated into thin air.

Overcome with the warmth of his body, she ran her hands over the toned muscles of his arms. He pulled his mouth away from her skin, stepping away, his eyes devouring her body, as she did so too.

Loki's chest heaved, he trying to regain his breath though his efforts were futile as Vera bridged the distance between them, their lips colliding with one another. Lost in the fervent kiss, he scooped her up like she weighed nothing, carrying her until she was being held against a wall.

"You know, as irritating as it may be, your magic does have its uses," she mused between moans. He set her down and spread her legs apart, his mouth descending along the length of her body, reaching the woman's hipbone before looking up to her. His eyes filled with desire. "That's not the only magic at my disposal," he replied silkily, flashing her a lascivious smirk.

"Is it the illusion casted by your cockine-oh," he cut her off as his lips were between her legs, the abrupt heat of his mouth on her centre leaving her mouth gape. She dug her nails into the base of his neck while his tongue worked on her, letting him know when he found her sweet spot.

As if she had made a wordless plea, Loki's index and thumb began massaging her little nub, his tongue flicking against her sex while his other hand caressed one of her breasts. Fighting the urge to cry out, she bit down on her tongue as two of his fingers entered her, stroking her slowly, pleased with himself as he watched her wince when he relieved the pressure on her entrance.

She opened her eyes in protest, yet in the absence of his skilful touch, her arousal ceased to ebb as she saw him on his knees before her, licking his slick fingers as he gazed up at her, flashing another sly grin. "Are you always this agitated in such… circumstances?"

"Will you stop with your incessant teasing?" she asked, exasperated.

"On the contrary pet, I've only just begun," he replied mischievously, and returned to her sex, pleasuring her until she was begging for her release with moans that grew louder with the rapidity of his strokes, until it finally came, leaving her dizzy. She held onto one of the shelves next to her to keep her balance, while he licked the remains of her arousal.

Once she came down from the high of his kisses, he rose to her level, motioning to ensnare her lips again. Instead, she placed a hand on his chest, nudging him to step backward until he let himself sit on the silk sheets of his bed.

She licked her lips seductively as he kept his eyes on her, about to kneel when his hands pulled her onto him. "Come here," he gruffly gave his desperate demand. She could sense his erection pulsating against her skin, still she felt the need to return his merciless gesture. She ground her hips ever so slowly, his features tensing in a blend of irritation and rapture.

He groaned at the movement that her pelvis made, his head tilted forward till his mouth found one of her nipples, holding it between his teeth as it hardened, while he squeezed the other with his hand.

Unable to take any more of the aching in her loins and the sounds that were escaping their lips from their bodies' manipulations, she leisurely lowered herself onto him, her eyes unmoving from his own, earning her a moan from his open mouth while she gasped, suddenly breathless.

He then buried his head in her own glossy black hair, biting at her ear lobe before kissing her neck. Vera lolled her head backwards as she straddled him, her body rising and falling with their breathing.

In that moment, she felt she was seeing the stars themselves as her wide eyes glanced at the ceiling, bright and clear as the night sky itself. Still, she continued to move, though the urgency of Loki's fervent kisses on her body made her feel how restless he was.

She was proved right when he turned both of them over, laying her on her back onto the silk and satin. He leaned over her, his mouth almost touching her ear, murmuring huskily "Your body is even more bewitching outside of your gown." She let her fingernails scrape his sides, as he continued, tantalising her with his words, "Don't worry, you'll get it back… eventually."

With that, he thrust into her, supported by his hands on either side of her head. Her grip on his body didn't loosen when she reached for his neck, bringing him down to her. She couldn't be bothered with suppressing her moans any longer, which he took care of when he kissed her roughly, still tasting herself on his tongue.

Loki's breathing became more ragged, his pace quickening, while the woman met his fervour as she continued to grind against him. Pleasure seemed to overwhelm her, it coursed through her veins like a shockwave that refused to subside, not until it claimed her body.

"You know what I want to hear," he breathed through seethed teeth, though his implications were clear enough. She tried to form his name, as senseless as he made her.

"Say it," he coaxed, and she did.

At her cry, he lowered himself on one elbow, while his other hand moved between them, stroking her already throbbing sex. She bit down on his shoulder as he came down from his own high, giving the last few thrusts until she too gave in to the relentlessness of her desire.

Without warning, the golden bars of the headboard came alive, wrapping themselves around the unsuspecting Vera's wrists, her almost-static body still recovering from its ravishment. Helplessly watching them being raised above her head, she instinctively resist.

"That will get you nowhere, darling," he interrupted. The sweetness in his utterance of the pet name surprised her ever so slightly, yet she immediately pushed it aside. She lay still, her eyes fixedly on him. He rubbed her thighs lazily, parting them further, his body slithering down the bed until his head was between her thighs, placing heated kisses on her.

His touch grew more intense when his tongue lapped and massaged her entrance, leaving her to thrash helplessly against him and the restraints. Her movements didn't stop him however, or make him any more compassionate.

"Loki, give me back my arms," she pleaded

"Why?" he mused, peering up at her, his lips curling into his mischievous smile.

"Because I need to feel you," she retorted plainly, though she couldn't feign off the desperation in her lustful eyes. He resumed his actions, as if he had ignored her request.

"Please," she added, almost irritated.

"That's better," he replied, his lips slick with her.

The golden bars unwound themselves from her wrists, driven by longing, she hardly noticed the pain as the blood flow returned to her limbs. They reached for his hair, running through the pitch black locks, tugging harshly at a handful when he drove her to her climax again.

"Is that how you expected this night to go, Lady Vera?" the Prince inquired, raising his head to met her gaze. Suddenly, the room began to deteriorate into mist, and all that was emerald faded into gold. Vera blinked in horror.

She was standing upright, in her black gown, the same pillars and the grand door in her sight. And standing before her, with a coy expression on his face, a fully clothed Loki. "Fascinating, what goes on in a woman's imagination," he remarked.


	3. An Understanding

**A/N: Thank you to everybody who's been reading this, following and favouriting, and asking for updates, it's too amazing of you all. You make the process of writing this all the more enjoyable.**

Vera was lost for words, motionless. She could feel the heat of her burning cheeks, but she was unable to discern its cause; her embarrassment, or anger at his manipulations.

"What did you…" she only managed the first part of her sentence as it hung in their silence, and he bit his lip before he replied.

"I simply entered your mind, and delved into one of your more… carnal desires," his voice was velvety, and he took a few steps towards her.

"You're despicable, invading my mind like that," she spat, her expression contorted into one of both shame and disgust.

"Hmm, I seem to recall you begging, aching," he counter-argued, moving closer. "And even willing to kneel before me at a point, if I may add," he added, in mock-reminiscence, as if he had already forgotten. Why did she ever delude herself, she thought.

"Well, you can't say it wasn't entertaining in the least," he added, making her skin numb, her rage simmering. She raised her hand to slap him but he caught it when it came close to striking him. He clicked his tongue against his teeth in condescension.

"You should have left me alone, Loki. You should have never interfered the night before," she hissed at him as she fought to free herself from his grip.

"I was bored, and I have a proclivity for women who take control," he uttered lowly, his suggestion as clear as the blue depths he possessed for eyes. How easy it was for someone to get lost in a gaze, but Vera's rage made her see red. His hold softened, and she yanked her arm, ignoring the red mark of his hand that was temporarily etched on her skin.

Without another word, she shoved past him and walked out of the room, passed through the grand Hall of Asgard, and declined an escort as she strode across the bridge that led to the city. The tall statues of warriors towered over her, and she felt as if they were glaring at her in disdain.

She continued to walk through the emptying streets, effortlessly navigating her way to the closest tavern she could remember, which contrasted to its surroundings. Among the dimly lit, silent scene, the watering hole was infested with all the rowdy men and women who sought enjoyment from the bottom of their jugs of ale.

Vera on the other hand, wanted nothing more than forgetfulness. The woman sat at the countertop, and asked for a drink of the stronger variety, to which the barkeep obliged. On her left, a scruffy, blonde onlooker had his eyes trained on her for some time, watching her as she took her drink in gulps. As if she hadn't been irritated enough.

"Someone's planning on loosening their inhibitions," he spoke loudly, motioning his stool towards her. She busied herself with her drink, ignoring his advances, until she felt a hand on her leg, slipping under the slit of her dress, moving towards her inner thigh in the swiftest of motions. Her free hand was suddenly clenched around his, her knuckles white as she set down her drink.

"The only inhibitions which concern you are those which are preventing me from breaking your arm," she replied coldly, her eyes focused on him in a stony glare. His expression was that of someone unfamiliar with slights or rejection, and he scoffed at her before his other hand rose to hit her. She however, anticipated this, as she dodged his blow, which struck the air.

She earned a grimace of pain from the man when her fist forcefully met him in the ribs, and as he recoiled, she grabbed him from his shoulder-length locks, causing him to cry out.

"Don't touch me," she rebuked, and rammed his head against the countertop. Thankfully, the confrontation went almost entirely unnoticed, partly due to her advantageously brisk movements, though the uproar of the tavern was too great.

The barkeep on the other hand had a nonplussed look on his face, which caused some others to follow his gaze. Paying no attention to their bafflement, she finished her drink in one swig, left her due payment and exited the boisterous bar, and made her way home, where exhaustion claimed her instantly.

* * *

Night was eclipsed by day, the brighter, larger celestial stars illuminating the sky. The light shone through Vera's open balcony, stirring her awake from her respite. She rubbed her eyes and glanced at her body, which was still clothed in her evening gown. Wincing as she reached to undo her dress, she felt a prickling soreness in her wrist, which she found to have a purplish ring around it.

She readied a steamy bath, and slipped out of her dress before setting it aside in a washing basin. Unlike most nobles in Asgard, Vera hated the idea of having someone wait on her during every waking hour of her day. When she lived with her uncle, that was the life she knew and detested. Privacy was a foreign concept, and for a reserved person such as her, it was an affront to her nature.

In her later years, when her guardian passed on, she compensated every servant generously as they were discharged and eventually joined other households, all save but one. Jorheim was a particular gentleman, he never pried, never overstepped or tried to do more than what he was instructed. He only worked on certain days, and lived in his own residence nearby.

She was glad that it was his off-day, she thought, slowly sinking into the pool of hot water, allowing it to soothe her from her extremities to her core. When she first began sporting her hooded alter, baths like these were a prerequisite for her peace of mind. The thought of being out in the streets, ready to fend off transgressors of varying degrees in the night, it had the opposite effect of tranquility on her. It made her uneasy, and her body would tremble in the water.

At times, she would reminisce over the horrific things she had already seen as a child, as a young woman, and even when she took the law into her own hands. She could still remember the initial shock she felt when she saw a guard abuse his authority, silencing his victims with threats and brute force. Asgard was seen as an emblem of peace among the Nine Realms, maintaining order within and beyond their borders. Such a notion was unbearably ironic to Vera.

Eventually, she welcomed the night, she was accustomed to its masked violence, its hidden corruptions and wrongful ministrations. Even when memories plagued her mind, it only fuelled her determination further. Now she served to use this time as a distraction from the mischievous and cruel manipulations of the prince. However, it was futile, as she suddenly started to ponder on his intentions. She understood why Loki was in hiding, but masquerading as his father… _Was the All-father dead? Did Loki slay him?_ she asked herself, but to no avail.

* * *

When night befell the realm, engulfing it in a starry darkness, Vera was watching from the spire atop of an archive. Children were rushing home, eager to abandon their play when the soldiers began their evening patrols. The tallest of them was more chiefly concerned with the pair of maidens that passed by, while the others dispersed.

Her eyes followed the movements of a specific individual, one adorned in the guards' armour. He turned at a corner and was apprehended by a cloaked civilian, grabbing the guard forcefully by his gold-plated chest. They were speaking in hushed tones, and Vera pulled out her leather whip, holding it with both hands on either side of the spire as she descended, before she tossed it around a column which supported the archive's canopy.

Without hesitation, she dropped to the ground soundlessly, abandoning the whip when she saw how close she was to the suspicious persons. Her head was cocked from the building's corner, and she could glimpse strands of auburn from under the civilian's veil, and realised it was a woman's soft-spoken voice.

However, their attentions were drawn to a lone, unsuspecting elderly man emerging into the street. He inquired something of the soldier, though Vera couldn't hear what it was. The female murmured to her companion, and fled the scene, while the he took strides towards the old man, a cold look on his face.

Vera turned to retrieve her whip, which came free with a firm yank of her hand. It felt cool in her grip, and she spun to face the soldier, and saw the fearful expression of the elder. Just as the larger man drew out his sword, she flung the whip at him. It coiled around his arm, causing him to drop the weapon.

He grunted in frustration, losing his footing when she brought him down, and ran to kick his sword aside, when she felt an arm encircle her leg. Instead of resisting, she used his hold as an anchor, and twisted her body till she was above him, rendering him unconscious when she stomped her foot on his face, leaving a gash on his cheek.

She sighed as she pulled her bloodied boot from the unconscious brute, and looked up to the nonplussed elder, who was trying to regain some breath. She addressed him with genuine concern, resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You shouldn't be wandering alone in these parts, sir."

"Oh, I don't take to these streets often, but I'm sure I'd be dead if you hadn't saved me. I'm so very grateful," he spoke hoarsely, though he flashed her a smile of earnest appreciation.

"You're welcome, just get home safely," she replied, about to disentangle her whip from the guard when the old man swiftly gripped her by the wrist, still sensitive from the night before, as if he had known where he needed to apply the pressure. Searing pain shot through the length of her arm, and she couldn't hold back a grimace.

A veil of glowing emerald engulfed the man, his appearance shimmering away in an instant, only to reveal the mischievous god himself. "Perhaps I can find another means of expressing my thanks," he remarked huskily, one corner of his lip curling into a smirk.

Vera bit down on her sudden urge to yell, and rolled her eyes at the prince. "What in Valhalla do you want now?" she demanded impatiently, her wrist still in his unwavering hold. He responded by placing his other palm at the small of her back, nudging her close to him till their foreheads were almost touching.

"Like I said, I wish to show you the full extent of my gratitude," he grinned at her, to which she feigned a flirtatious smirk. "Oh, really?" she inquired coyly, before her leg kicked off the ground to knee him in the groin. Instead, her attempt became futile as it slammed into the wall that was behind a now-vanished Loki, her hands holding her against the stone for support.

"You really ought to be more subtle in your manoeuvres, I could predict that before you even thought to do it," he pointed out, standing a few feet away from her. It took all her restraint not to raise her voice in vexation. Then she twisted her body in his direction, appearing more collected, though she took no step forward.

"You know, I understand why you're in hiding, but posing as the All-father?" Vera raised her eyebrows as she watched his fixed expression, while he returned the gesture with the arching corner of his lip. "Do you truly think you're in a position to be asking _me_ about masquerading as someone else?"

"You're in a position of power, the realm is at your command and they don't even know who is ruling them," she bit back sternly.

"And yet these meek civilians cannot put a face to their little protectress, what is it the guards have been calling you, Forseti's mistress?" he gave a quick answer, uttering the insult languidly.

"I care not for petty names, though it is far better than being known as my father's murderer," she delivered her retort intently, prepared for physical rage. But he barely flinched.

"He's not dead," he simply answered, his mouth relaxing in a taut line. If Vera believed Loki, there was something about his appearance, like he were presently contemplating the act itself. "So you mean to reign in a disguise, you covet the throne that much?" She continued her attempt to piece him together, considering the revelation.

"Shouldn't you be more concerned with my exposing your alter, Lady Vera?" he deflected the question with his own, smirking slightly.

"Surely you are too cunning to pose such a threat," she remarked, her resolve unwavering as she continued. "Don't expect to tarnish my intentions without my extending you the same courtesy."

He looked down at his feet as he paced towards her, lifting his steady gaze to hers. "Is that a threat?" he asked, his steely blue eyes squinting a little.

"More like a truce of sorts." He froze at this, intrigued.

"Are you so certain to make such a deal with me?" his voice was laced with seductive undertones, those that beckoned her, tempted her. She fought the urge to shudder or recoil against the wall.

"Are you?" The retort came out more shyly than she intended, though she didn't blink as she spoke, her eyes matching his intensity.

He then ran his eyes briskly down the length of her body, and upward again, a sly smile playing on his mouth.

"I suppose some things are not meant for the public eye," he muttered the hint lowly, before dissipating into the night breeze, though the evening chill was not the cause of the tremor travelling down her spine.

 **Sidenote: Forseti is a Norse God associated with justice.**


	4. Something to Unravel

It had been days since her last encounter with the prince, and in a manner of speaking, Vera was appreciative of that. Their agreement wasn't one of promise, they were bound by words of mutual extortion, the threat to their own selves.

The thought of him was a reminder of that menacing anxiety, and when she examined her bloody knuckles, her mind brought her back to the instance where he healed her hand, the coolness of the viridescent mist against her skin, the way he expertly coaxed the flesh to mend itself. She shut out the memory as soon as she felt herself almost delve into it entirely.

She rose from her bath, her bare form glistening in the light that filled her bedroom as she entered it. Flexing her healed wrist out of habit, she then fastened a noir robe around her frame.

"Jorheim," she called out, fidgeting with a tangled lock of her onyx hair, looking out her balcony at the bustling city before her.

"You summoned, my lady?" a modulated voice inquired from the open doorway. The question belonged to a long-legged, lean man with short blonde hair and stubble along his jawline. He was only a few centuries older than Vera, and yet he often acted like an individual who had seen it all, and had known all that he ever needed to, as opposed to the woman's vivacious, curious mind.

"Are we still expecting my uncle for dinner?" She strode towards her vanity, busying herself with a drawer's contents.

"Yes, he will be arriving with the lady to whom he has recently become affianced." The emphasis with which Jorheim enunciated the last word made her almost chuckle, had she not been surprised by this information.

"Another one?" she replied, finally finding the object she was seeking, a golden necklace with a crimson pendant attached to it.

"So it seems," he subtly rolled his eyes as he answered, which Vera glimpsed from the oval-shaped mirror in front of her. "Sometimes that man truly is a fascination, he makes promises of engagement before he even knows who he's marrying."

In most households, you would never hear a servant speak in so free a manner, but Jorheim was more than that. He was partially her confidant, although he was still unsuspecting of her nightly activities, as far as she knew. But for most of her life, he was her friend, the source of a lonely orphan's comfort.

"Well, Gertrude was known to have extravagant tastes, maybe he'd had enough of her," she mused, linking the two ends of the gold chain behind her neck.

"You'd think she was living like a royal, trying to impress the All-father with her eccentric gowns and excessive jewellery. Those rings looked like boulders for Bor's sake,"

She stood still for a moment at the mention of royalty, then examined her reflection, the red pendant glimmering in the daylight. "I couldn't agree more," she answered plainly.

* * *

"Veranee, how are you, my dear?" uncle Geldram cried out cheerfully, leaning in to kiss his niece on both cheeks hastily. A stout gentleman was her uncle, his grey hair receding to give way to more wrinkles and creases on his forehead. His arm was still entwined with his fiancée's, until the lady disentangled herself from him.

The pair were both agreeably dressed, Geldram cloaked in a dark, lengthy cape, under which he wore a leather tunic, while the lady was in a flowing turquoise garment, laced with intricate silvery designs.

"I'm well, thank you uncle. I've been very keen to meet your betrothed, I don't believe we've met," Vera replied as she welcomed them into the dining area.

"I'm inclined to agree, however Geldram speaks often and most highly of you," the lady was soft-spoken, perhaps even nervous. She had brown eyes which matched with her chestnut-coloured hair, mixed with strands of grey. Their host extended a hand to the woman, her hands soft yet worn, and a hearty smile on the guest's face.

It was a comfort to Vera that her uncle had found someone who was of his age, rather than one of his many ambitious youthful companions, feigning love in an attempt to attain his wealth.

"I'm so glad you finally get to meet Sejnor," her uncle beamed at them both, his plump hands resting on both their shoulders.

"As am I, please make yourself comfortable, I believe Jorheim will be bringing the first course shortly," she gestured to the elongated dining table, laid out with silver and decorated with silk embroidery. She paced towards her seat at the head of the table, her deep scarlet gown clinging to her curves as she moved.

Jorheim brought in tray after tray as the trio entered into lengthy conversations about state affairs, Gertrude's antics and schemes, the rumoured talk of war brewing in the universe, until it led to a different subject entirely.

"I don't suppose that this justice-seeker is much integrated into society, it would have to be a commoner, plenty more of those than the nobility, and everyone knows what everyone's up to in this circle," Geldram spoke between mouthfuls, while Vera subconsciously reached for her glass of wine.

"Oh, I don't know Geldram, maybe it's someone who thinks the law is not enough of an enforcer, and to a point I somewhat agree, I admit," Sejnor chimed in, setting her cutlery onto her empty plate.

"You failed to say so when we discussed it at home, darling," Vera's uncle was so startled by the woman's confession that he hadn't even chewed his food properly. The sight made Vera almost choke on her wine in an effort to stifle a chuckle.

"Are you alright?" Sejnor asked genuinely, eyeing the woman with surprised concern.

"Yes, yes," she managed as she collected herself. "Uncle Geldram talking with his mouth full will be the death of me," she grinned slightly, before taking another sip of drink.

"That would be a tragic misfortune, as he does so on far too many an occasion," Sejnor replied with a slight smile of her own.

"You're making me sound like a pig, Sejnor," Geldram pointed out gruffly as Jorheim refilled his glass.

"Well, you are!" she retorted lightheartedly, her wide grin revealing a row of pearl white teeth.

"Have you heard that guard, erm what was his name, ah, Sigurd, yes, is looking to take a woman to wife," the old man diverted the conversation onto another topic.

"Oh?" Vera said, trying to sound interested.

"Come now, child, how long are you to keep living as you do? Why, some people are questioning if you are sharing relations with Jorheim… No offence to you, my good fellow," Geldram sought to soften the insult, though the servant was accustomed to the his constant blabbering.

"She wishes, but alas, she remains undeserving," Jorheim joked, picking up Sejnor's empty dish and returning to the kitchen, while Vera protested at the tall man.

"Must you wound me so, Jorheim?!" she cried out after him in mock injury, in an attempt to avoid the topic of marriage further.

"Be serious for a moment, Vera. What would your parents think if they knew how many men you've refused? Or how little you mingle in public, and what's this business I've been hearing about you picking fights at the taverns?" he began speaking in a more matter-of-fact tone that she hardly ever liked, now less so because he had always been incessant about her impending wifehood. Sejnor on the other hand tried to dissuade her fiancé but to no avail, as he remained fixated on the subject, as he usually was.

"Only a few times, uncle, and they deserved it," she spoke with determination, "And as for my parents, I doubt they would have blamed me for my rejections," the host continued.

"You sound just like her, I must confess, but that was before she met your father, so I've taken it upon myself," Geldram said with a matching resoluteness.

"What?" she asked, already assuming what he meant.

"I've arranged for you to dine with Sigurd Stureson, tomorrow night, and I will not let you slither your way out of it this time."

She remained silent as her annoyance began to quell itself, while Geldram stuttered his next sentence defensively. "In all fairness, he did ask me if I could speak on his behalf."

She appeared to have reluctantly conceded as he wore her down, though even as her guests finally departed, they seemed unaware at Vera's sudden eagerness to meet Sigurd.

* * *

The following night, Vera had dressed in a teal strapless number that flowed behind her feet, and fastened with a silver belt around her waist, waiting for the soldier to escort her to dinner, as uncle Geldram said he would.

The evening air was starting to set in when Jorheim declared Sigurd's arrival. Vera was hesitant, but the cause was far from the common anxieties of courtship. When she had heard the name Stureson, she knew who her uncle was referring to.

It had been about a month or so ago, when she had witnessed two men in armour speak in hushed tones in the outskirts of the city, when they were due at the palace with all the other guards. It was the day the Dark Elves had invaded Asgard, and the night of Frigga's funeral.

She caught some of the conversation from a ledge above, masked by the dark, close enough to hear without being seen.

"You don't think he will know that we've been gone?" one of the guards asked.

"Doubt it, he's been at Odin's side making all the security arrangements for his wife and the other dead," the other replied.

"Isn't this the perfect time to strike, then? When he's at his weakest?"

"No, and don't you go bringing that up again with the others, because that talk will get one of us caught and the whole thing will be exposed."

"So nothing changes, we stick to his plan?"

"Precisely, Stureson."

Despite her discreet efforts, she had never managed to determine what this plan was, and busied herself with offences that she could actually counter. She was also convinced that if she didn't tread carefully, she would be hunted down for asking the right questions to the wrong people.

But fortune presented itself in the form of Sigurd, and she planned to press her advantage with caution.

Descending the spiralling marble staircase, Vera could see him clearly as he stood at the end of it. He had a dark, thick beard trimmed just at the level of his collarbone. His hair was of similar length, and he peered at her with wide green eyes.

She met his gaze with enthusiasm, and he took her hand in his.

"It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Lady Vera," he beamed at her, listing her hand to his lips. She feigned a blush of modesty, replying sweetly with "And I you."

"Shall we?" he asked, offering his arm to her, and she linked it with her own.

"Well, I'm off," Jorheim announced loudly, walking in from the drawing room where he was dusting, a smug expression on his face as he eyed them for a moment. "You two enjoy yourselves," before 'subtly' winking at Vera, making her roll her eyes at him.

"Goodnight, Jorheim," she bade him farewell as they exited the estate, and walked off in the direction of their destination.

* * *

"He's got quite a character, your uncle," Sigurd remarked while Vera nodded in agreement, cutting a strip of meat. "That he does, sir," she gave a slight smile at that.

"Please, call me Sig, I'm not really one for formalities," he urged her, looking at her intently.

"As you say, Sig," she went along with his suggestion, pausing before she posed her question.

"So, what is it like, being a guard of the realm?" she asked curiously, making eye contact to see whether his expression would betray some deeper truth.

"Well, it's been quieter as of late, especially without the late prince stirring up more trouble." She couldn't help but smile inwardly at the irony of his statement, though she wouldn't allow her features to express such a sentiment.

"What about the invasion? It must have been horrible to lose so many good men and women…" she trailed off with a more genuine, empathetic tone.

"Yes, a dreadful occupational hazard, I'm afraid," he seemed to shrug his response, averting her eyes as he spoke.

She couldn't help but feel a sense of abhorrence as he reduced the casualties in such a manner, as if death were somewhat like a sprained muscle from which a person would eventually recuperate, like an occupational hazard. Some people come back from the dead, she thought to herself.

"And how does it resonate with you that Thor should reign once the All-father relinquishes the throne, now that his brother is deceased?"

"It makes no difference to me," he replied curtly, giving the impression of disinterest.

"I had thought it would be quite a change in rule, given Thor's temperament. He's far more rash and reckless than his father," she countered, Sigurd's mannerisms intriguing her further.

"He has no interest in ruling, as far as I know, and if he did, his disposition would most likely be his greatest weakness, in that respect."

"Yes, indeed," she concurred, when suddenly an individual bumped into their table, knocking over their drinks, spilling onto the velvet material of her dress. She was surprised, while Sigurd became enraged and they both turned to the clumsy figure.

Vera's jaw was agape as she realised who was apologising profusely before them, rendering her speechless. It appeared to be the same 'old man' she had saved a few nights ago, though she knew better than to exclaim at Loki's disguise.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Sigurd demanded, while Loki faked a stutter, trying to collect himself and an explanation, when the waiters emerged to send him out.

"Will you excuse me, I need to see to this," she rose from her seat and pointed at the stain of mead on the fabric.

"By all means," he muttered, glaring at his soaked plate as another waiter suggested that they reimburse him, as the cooks had already began to take leave.

"What kind of service is this?" Vera could hear his raised voice bellow throughout the restaurant, noticing how everyone's eyes were fixed on the heated exchange behind her. She however, when seeing that Sigurd was too preoccupied, quickly strode outside into the street, where he was undoubtedly waiting.

"What have we here, a new dalliance already?" he deduced with an artificial agonising look.

"What business is it of yours?" she retorted, but he brushed it off, walking towards her and snapping his fingers in midair, and their surroundings were replaced entirely with the inside of a lavatory. It belonged to the restaurant's, she reckoned.

"Seems an unlikely prospect, if you ask me," he murmured in the crammed compartment, now in his natural form.

"What is?" she huffed, flustered and impatient.

"You moving on, you are wearing my colour after all," he simply pointed out, making her irritation worsen.

"I'm in a presently delicate situation, I cannot have you throwing me off while I'm in the middle of it," she rasped through clenched teeth.

"I throw you off? Is that all I do for you?" he raised a brow at her, though his eyes taunted her.

"No, in fact, you make my blood boil, and my hands convulse from the insane urge to slap you," she interjected.

"To be fair, I don't think you're quite ready for that kind of carnality yet," he teased in a patronising tone, with a false expression of serious concern.

"Must I suffer at the whims of your boredom?" Vera was eager to leave the lavatory, though he extended an arm at the side of her shoulder, blocking the door.

"I don't think you're suffering. In fact, I think you quite enjoy it."

"What do you want?" she grumbled.

"Well, to fix that stain, for one thing," and sure enough, it faded into nothingness, earning a glare from Vera. "As if that doesn't look conspicuous at all," she remarked.

"As you wish," he obliged her and returned the dress to its former state.

"More importantly, what information have you gathered on this particular gentleman?"

"Why?" she inquired, bemused.

"Because you're not the only one who's aware of their suspicious activity, Vera. I'm not sure if you recall but I was there when one of them tried to kill me," he elaborated sarcastically.

"I agreed to keep your secret, am I meant to care if you live or not?"

"Do you think so ill of me?" he spoke as if he were wounded.

"Worse than that, actually." She took a moment before she finally answered him in the hopes that he would leave her be, lest Sigurd began to suspect something. "Not enough to go on, all I know is that there's a faction of guards with a less-than-noble objective, I think they wanted to overthrow the regime," she whispered in a low voice.

"When did you learn this?" Loki muttered, his demeanour more sombre.

"It was the same night when the Elves attacked Asgard," and she watched his pupils dilate slightly at her answer, though no other changes took form in his expression.

"I need to go, otherwise he'll think I left, or something of that nature," she said softly, in contrast to her earlier reproaching tones. He seemed frozen for a short moment as if he were lost in thought, though he became collected when she spoke.

"The shade suits you," he whispered, and as she expected, he vanished into thin air once again. She inhaled deeply and returned to the table, where Sigurd proposed they leave.

* * *

"I had a pleasant evening, Sigurd. Thank you," Vera said once they reached the entryway to her home. He apologised for his conduct with the waiter, and she brushed it off.

"Would it be alright if I used your bathroom? I'm afraid I had a little too much wine tonight, he asked sheepishly, and she let him follow her inside. But the moment he closed the front door, as she kicked off her shoes, in a blur of swift movements he had reached for her neck and the base of her skull, and rammed her head into the wall closest to her, and she collapsed into his arms as she blacked out.

 **A/N: Hi everyone! Just finished exams so I'm getting back to writing, I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, thank you all for reading and for the feedback!**


	5. Caged

When she had awoken, Vera was dazed and weak. She felt her head pound where the impact was inflicted, and a whirring sound rang in her ears. It was dim, she didn't know where she was, a few torches being the only source of illumination. She tried to twist her body, but it was futile when she realised that she was tightly bound to a wooden chair.

The rope with which she was tied was digging into her skin, a burning sensation in her wrists and legs, while she felt her breathing become shallow with the constricting bind around her waist. Despite the instinctive urge to struggle or attempt to free herself, she sat still, refraining from futile exertion. If this was what she was facing, she needed all the energy she could, especially in the frail state she felt herself to be in.

"A little early in our relationship to have me all tied up, don't you think, Sigurd?" she called out, though her voice was fainter than usual. A shadow emerged from the gloom, and although he hadn't stepped into the light, she recognised his voice immediately.

"Sigurd's a bit preoccupied at the moment, but you have me to keep you company." She knew him as Sigurd's accomplice. When he was close enough, Vera could see that he had hair the colour of the flames around them, and he was of a more muscular build than his friend, especially as he was not wearing armour.

She glowered at him, while he pulled up a chair from behind him, and the grating sound it made against the ground caused her to wince.

"Well, that's a shame," she muttered, tasting dried blood from the corner of her mouth. He straddled the chair, sitting across from her, looking at her with a mix of fascination and perplexity.

"I don't suppose you've brought me here for the sake of chit-chat," she mused, tilting her head to one side slightly.

"Your wits, I'm afraid, will be of no use to you, considering where they've brought you," he replied curtly.

"Then why am I here?" her voice was indistinct, yet there was no mistaking her contempt.

"You've been sticking your nose in places it doesn't belong," he slurred the last word, his gaze unblinking.

"What, because I asked a guard about his line of work?" the woman raised her eyebrows as if she were incredulous, though she knew what he meant.

"Because for months, Lady Vera, you've been targeting and assaulting soldiers in the streets, all in accordance to some deluded, self-righteous escapade of yours."

"It's kind of you to think so highly of me, but I'm not the one you're referring to," pausing before she pressed her point further. "If this were an accusation, shouldn't I be standing before the All-father? Or are you also not one for formalities?"

"I'd think this was more of an interrogation."

"And I think you're acting outside of the law, and you don't want your King to know," she said with a pragmatic stubbornness.

He pursed his lips, taking a moment to form his reply when a door creaked and slammed, and another spoke instead of him.

"She's a clever one, Kirj," a cloaked Sigurd proclaimed, holding a torch in one hand. "Only not clever enough." He stared at her with condescension, moving to her side and bending one knee till he was at her level.

"Clever enough to realise you're not my type, to start with, Sig," she murmured, looking at the ground when he grabbed her tightly by the chin, forcing her to look at him.

"Tell us what you know," he growled at her, the strength of his hold increasing with his disgruntlement.

She spat at him, causing him to rise up in disgust, and suddenly slapped her hard across the face. Looking down at the rough texture of gravel, she refused to make whimper in pain. Blood dripped from her lips, splattering on the ground.

"I know nothing," she managed, raising her piercing gaze to him.

"What if we summon Bard, maybe he'll get her to talk?" Kijr posed the suggestion to his comrade.

"He's still making the arrangements, we can't interrupt him now," Sigurd stated simply, busying himself with a small dagger he brandished from its sheath.

"What if she told someone?"

"Then we'll deal with it," her captor snapped at his fellow Einherjar.

"Just like we're dealing with her?" Kijr pointed out, his voice raised.

"If Bard refuses to see her-" the other began, his tone exasperated.

"Then you'll get rid of me, undoubtedly," Vera cut in.

"I'm glad we have that established," he spoke lowly, an irritable smugness in his expression.

"I'll tell him we have her," Kijr announced reluctantly, allowing the door to slam shut behind him.

"I guess I have you all to myself," Sigurd flashed a toothy grin at her, the hostility marked in his eyes, dagger still in hand.

"Oh, lucky me," she enunciated with an artificial air of enthusiasm.

He dragged the chair closer to her, now turning it around and sitting only a metre away from her, his intent stare still fixed on her, expression unchanging.

"You'll consider yourself lucky if Bard declines to pay you a visit, you would beg for death if he did." He leaned forward as he whispered the words, fuelling her indignation.

"We'll see," she replied in the same manner of voice, before she mustered all the force she could and threw her head forward into his, sending him tumbling backwards onto the ground, while she pivoted the momentum and propelled herself onto her back, and the wooden pieces of the chair splintered apart, falling away as she rolled on one side.

Despite the impact her forehead had taken, her adrenaline sustained her, and spotting the dagger lying a short distance away, she sat up and hurriedly thrashed her bound wrists from behind her back to underneath her curled body until they were finally in front of her, ignoring the shooting pain in her shoulders as she heard a stunned Sigurd grunt in outrage.

He was on his elbows when she stood and raced for the dagger, but when she picked it up and tried to free herself, he grabbed her by her throat, squeezing hard. She gasped for breath, and raised her arm repeatedly to elbow him in the chest, unwilling to release the weapon in her grasp.

Once he recoiled, she twisted around, pressed her advantage and thrusted the steely edge through the thin fabric of his tunic, just below his ribcage. He staggered away from her until he collapsed on the gravel, writhing on his side.

Using the bloodied knife to tear her restraints, she was relieved to find the door was unlocked. Before she stood outside, she returned to Sigurd and seized his dark plum cloak. She saw that he was still breathing, and decided to bind him quickly, lest he recuperate before she had time to escape.

"Who's clever now?" she posed the rhetorical question at the unconscious guard before throwing on the cloak and leaving him in the dark cellar.

Peering out of the room, she could find not another soul in her sights, and seeing no other way out, decided to follow the passage on her right, walking at a fast pace, trying desperately to control her breathing. It was a dark corridor, albeit for a few torches hanging from the walls, which seemed to have a more uneven and rugged texture.

She had passed by a dozen other doors, which she suspected to be more cellars, until she spotted a staircase that went both up and down. The abrupt sound of voices and footsteps from below startled the woman for a moment, and it grew closer with every second. Instinct urged her to ascend the steps, unwilling to get caught again.

Vera was relieved to find the next passageway empty, though it was dimmer than the previous one, as she noticed less torches. She reached for one from the wall, and moved slowly, uncertain of her surroundings. Then she saw it, an opening like that of a cave, obstructed by a figure who seemed not to have noticed her, or paid no attention to.

Hugging the hood close to her face, she walked closer to what seemed like her exit, and the guard acknowledged her with a nod, unsuspecting. It was night, and when she reached the end of the passage, she realised that they were standing on a precipice, and that the sea was lulling against the cliff underneath them.

"It's a quiet night tonight, don't you think?" the soldier asked, to which Vera nodded in silent agreement, and in an instant, she briskly covered the guard's mouth with one hand while she shoved him harshly into the rocky wall with the other.

Raising her torch over the edge of the cliff, she couldn't glimpse any nearby skiffs, yet was able to make out the shoreline, and that there were no obstacles in the way. Barefoot as she was, she set aside the torch and ripped away a chunk of material from the length of her dress, so as not to impede her movements. Discarding the cloak as well, she gazed at the drop before her, trying to see if it was shallow, but she couldn't tell.

Before she could give herself time to doubt or hesitate, she walked back a few metres into the passage, before sprinting towards the opening and throwing herself over the edge, trusting herself to the waves.

* * *

As the night's fog was fading into the early stroke of daylight, Loki lay still with his hands clasped behind his head on a divan in his chambers, rereading a passage that his mind refused to register, which was taken up by questions concerning Vera. It had been two days since he had last seen her, and although he had thrown himself into his books whenever he had spare time, he still found himself wondering. When he realised this, he decided against seeking her out the night before, but the more he tried to shake her off…

Then he rose abruptly, hearing the gentle rapping noise on a door in the hallway. As instinct cloaked him in his father's guise, he now found himself standing in the room of his parents. The prince opened the door to find a servant standing before him, wide eyed and alert.

"What news do you bring?" he inquired in a raspy, half-awake manner.

"My King, there is a commoner asking for an audience with you," he claimed, his posture stiff but his voice trembling. Meanwhile the pretender was taken aback a little, unsure of what to make of it.

"At a time such as this?" he pointed out.

"She will not say what it pertains, though she looks like she may collapse in the Hall as we speak."

 _She_ , he thought to himself.

"Are there any guards in the Throne Room?" he inquired, unwilling to let the concern escape into his words.

"Only a few Einherjar," the guard affirmed.

"Have them train in the courtyards, and see to it that the commoner does not leave," Loki ordered with Odin's authority, resolved to learn the nature of this visit, his restlessness caused by the impression that it was Vera.

"As you command," the servant enunciated before taking leave to do as he was bid.

When he himself emerged into the great hall, he could see a small frame on its knees opposite the throne, its back hunched like a frail child that had taken a beating, unable to stand.

His maintained his pace as he turned to the servant, and ordered that he oversee the Einherjar. The figure barely turned its head upright as he expressed his command, but once he heard the doors shut, he transformed into his true self and treaded across the room swifter than the sprite of a thunderstorm.

He brought himself down on one knee beside her, his hand on her shoulder. He saw the blood seeping through her dark, matted hair, along her cheek and how the same stained dress she wore last was soaked through and ripped up to her thighs. She smelt of salt and her breathing was faint.

Too many horrific conclusions ran through his mind when he asked, "What happened?"

But the reply wouldn't come, her head hanging low now as she struggled to catch her breath, when suddenly he reached for her with both arms as he saw her about to tumble forward, and she slumped into his arms once he tried to steady her. She was barely conscious.

* * *

Hours upon hours had passed by the time Vera had awoken to the sound of silence, her breathing calm and rhythmic. The ache that possessed her forehead had ebbed almost entirely, and her sore muscles less taut against the comfort of a cushiony surface.

Feeling confident that she wouldn't become disoriented, she propped herself onto her elbows, glancing around her as she tried to recognise her surroundings. A sharp sense of revulsion had struck her dumb. Was she imagining his room, the place where he led her mind already? Would it betray her with such a distasteful longing, a trick from the faintness?

"Didn't expect to be here anytime soon, did you?" a voice called out from the ensuite bathroom, and she sank into the silk pillow with a sigh.

"Not in the remotest corner of my thoughts," she retorted.

"Perhaps your subconscious desires will betray you yet again," Loki walked in and sat at the side of the bed where she lay. She was tempted to kick him, but was concerned with another matter.

"You entered my mind a second time?" she asked accusingly.

"No," he suppressed a chuckle and turned to the ground before looking back at her. "But you're no longer in pain, I presume?" he inquired seriously.

She flexed her extremities under the sheet and tilted her head from one side to another, and affirmed his supposition. "No," she admitted.

"You're welcome," he uttered with an odd civility, when she realised that her dress was restored to its entirety, lying atop a room divider screen that was etched with gold markings, standing in the corner of the room. She then examined her own clothing, which was an unfamiliar and rather loosely fitted tunic.

"I didn't pry if that's what you're assuming," he caught on as he saw her countenance contort into one of perplexity, lowering his gaze to his entwined hands.

"It's nothing you haven't already seen, I'm sure," she remarked wittily, sinking further into the pillow, looking aimlessly at the pitch black ceiling.

"Are you going to tell me what happened, Vera?"

"How long have I been here?" she asked, ignoring his question.

"A day, it took some work to help you recuperate," he spoke curtly before he repeated his question, a sombre frown accentuating his expression. She became pensive over the possibilities, was Jorheim safe? And what of her uncle and Sejnor?

"I need to see if they went after anyone else," she began, kicking off the sheets in an attempt to rise up from the bed, when Loki held her in place with a loose yet abrupt grip on her knee.

"Not before you explain," he interjected resolutely, his words almost like a command. "In any case, I visited your home last night, I didn't see anyone there," he added more calmly, though he remained adamant on hearing her account. She sighed before she sat up and started speaking.

"The night of the invasion, I had seen these two guards, Einherjars from what I could tell, they weren't gathered at the palace like the rest, and as I told you, I suspected they were talking about overthrowing your father. One of them was Sigurd."

"The man you were with?" he interrupted.

"Precisely, he sought me out through my uncle and I thought I could use that to my advantage." She paused, allowing the rage in her tone to subside slightly. "I barely entered my house when he took me by surprise, and then I woke up and found myself in a cellar of sorts, facing two of your elite squadron."

"What did they want?" He stared at her, his lips tense. For a moment she thought that he dreaded her reply.

"They realised who I was, and they tried to interrogate me but they said they would bring Bard because I wouldn't cooperate. Do you know who he is?"

"Bard?" the prince looked contemplative, though not as surprised as she expected. "He's an Einherjar of high rank, one of my father's favourite students to train," he claimed, a trace of disgust in his tone.

"I think he's their leader. And if that doesn't sound like a rebellion, then I am not sure what it is they're planning," Vera saw that her utterance was further confirming his suspicions.

"You said they kept you in a cellar?"

"Seemed so, when I escaped it looked like we were inside a cliff, then I swam to the shore."

"Swam?" he echoed, his eyebrows raised.

"Well, what was I meant to do, summon a skiff?" she countered.

"No, it's just… No wonder you passed out." He stood up, searching through a shelf of books.

"I need to go home, Loki," she declared, taking the opportunity to finally stand, though her legs were numb.

"They're probably waiting for you already," he asserted, still looking among the leather cases.

"What if they did something to Jorheim or my uncle?" she maintained with as much conviction, her worry feeding into the irritation he so often brought out of her.

"I already sent them both word of your presence being required at the courts for the next few days," he said exasperatedly, and clenched his jaw when he found the book he sought. He flicked through the pages until he found a map of the Asgardian waters, which swayed with hues of green and blue against the towering blotches of earth, and at the middle of the page were the outskirts of their land.

"Can you recognise the path you took?" She glanced at the map, examining it from one corner to another, and she could see minuscule crafts and skiffs hovering over the city and sea, casting shadows that followed their movements.

"From where I stood before I jumped, it was a straight line to the shore, so it would probably be here," she reasoned, putting her finger on one of the earthly patches, and traced her index finger along the waves till she found the point where she had reached land the day before.

"If I'm correct, there's a marketplace just off the coast," he added, hoping to solidify her remembrance. "Did you notice it?"

"I stole a fruit from one of the carts once I made it there." There was a sense of detachment in her voice.

"Hypocrite," he muttered under his breath, yet still audible enough for her to hear.

"Oh, because your illusions and antics are done for the goodness of others," she said tensely.

"Your current state is the result of my antics, Lady Vera." He was still peering at the map, specifically at the blotch which she had pointed out for him, before he turned his cool gaze to her.

"Would you object to interrogating one of these men?"

"No," she said without a moment's hesitation, though she felt the need to ask. "Why, do you have a plan?"

"I do," he admitted, a devious slight smile forming.

 **A/N: Hey everybody, thanks so much for the reads, follows, favourites & reviews! You're seriously amazing! Hope you enjoyed this chapter**


	6. A Reversal of Roles

The mist skirted around the palace, crawling across all that was visible, at least from where the Einherjar stood watch on the bridge which led to the royal domain.

"Bard, there's reason to suspect a prisoner has escaped their cell, the All-father requests your presence at the dungeons," a comrade announced, stammering a little as he spoke.

"I'll see to it," the soldier answered calmly, and followed the messenger with a quick pace. Even in his armour, there was no denying that Bard was well-built, with curls of dark hair and eyes the colour of pitch. His hands were scarred and calloused, one resting against the handle of his longsword.

His watchful stare was trained on the looming columns ahead of him, prepared for any sudden attack, looking for a flicker of metal in the shadows, a stray sound of a fleeting captive out of their cage.

"Who is the fugitive?" he asked warily as they descended into the hall of cells. sharing a few glances with the guards that were stationed there.

"They're saying it's Lorelei, she must have gotten rid of her mouthpiece again," the other answered as they both stepped into the vacant room. Then some thought had dawned on Bard as it made him pause. "She went missing days ago," he pointed out, looking at the man questioningly.

"Ah, yes. Completely slipped my mind," a darker voice had left the mouth of the messenger, while the guards in the hall shimmered for a moment before they vanished. A hooded Vera appeared alongside the messenger, whose disguise faded till it revealed what Bard assumed was a ghost of the god of mischief himself, though he was too corporeal to be unreal.

He reached for his weapon with a swift hand, though not swift enough as he found it was no longer in place. The look of shock in his face broke through his visage, which only encouraged Loki. He watched the soldier writhe when the arms of a wooden chair began to wrap around the Einherjar's arms, forcing him to be seated, and chains were fabricated from thin air, bound tightly around the man's legs and throat.

"I had a feeling your death was a hoax," he finally spoke, sneering at them both.

"If that were the case, then you wouldn't have fallen for this," the prince answered plainly. "Although you never really were that perceptive to begin with," and the addition of this remark made Bard's lips purse in a thin line.

"Who's your friend?" he inquired, turning his attention to Vera. She stepped forward, slowly lifting the cloak from her head. There was a coldness in her glare that Loki had never seen before, but he thought it suited her well.

"I'm what you'd consider a friend of a friend, Sigurd and Kijr were very hospitable," she pointed out, her lips curling at one corner though her eyes were like ice.

He had pieced her together instantly, his curiosity subliming into rage. "You little wench," he spat the last word, though he seemed dumbstruck just the same.

"Why did you have her kidnapped?" Loki interjected impatiently, stalking closer to their captive, the restraints around his throat tightening just slightly.

"She was interfering with our objective," he spoke resolutely, as if he hadn't noticed the hold around his neck. Vera watched as the wood coiled around him more harshly, and no one could ignore the redness of his face.

"And what objective is that?" she asked, leaning against a table as she waited for the answer he couldn't give, his stiff face turning a bluish shade. She then looked at Loki, who didn't need telling as he finally loosened the choking grip around Bard, who immediately began gasping for air.

"Answer me," Vera demanded, the guard's chest heaving rapidly, it was a few moments before he confirmed their suspicions.

"It's a coup, to overthrow Odin," he managed uneasily, his eyes moving from the prince to the lady and back.

"And who would take the throne in his place, might I ask? You?" Loki scoffed at him, amused at the thought. One of his father's favourite students, and now here was he assuming some sort of entitlement? "You think too highly of yourself," he added, a mocking undertone in his voice.

"More than your brother? That's impossible, I'd say," Bard retorted, sneering at Loki as he continued. "No, no… I'm afraid that honour goes to Hefnir," the guard replied, his breath hitching a little.

"Who's that?" Vera was growing anxious now, especially when this revelation was made, implying that Bard was simply someone else's pawn. Loki, also matching in eagerness, threatened to suffocate the Einherjar again, though Bard began before the wood had even brushed against the sore skin of his throat.

"Laufey's prodigy," he blurted out in the space of a mere second. The prince froze, the emerald energy twisting around his fingers in anticipation until he found it in him to ask.

"Prodigy?" _What was Bard involved in, him and his coup?_ he thought to himself, feigning off the unwelcome, unsettling feeling with a simple, curious demeanour.

"The Juton had no heir, so he raised Hefnir like a son, and after you killed Laufey…"

"He wants revenge," Vera asserted, though she couldn't help but wonder at the sudden paleness in Loki's visage. She pressed Bard further when she realised that Loki was stunned.

"You've been Hefnir's confidante since then? Planning to kill the All-father?"

"He'll be more pleased to slay the man who killed Laufey, now that he's back from the dead," Bard shrugged, chuckling weakly, though it still possessed a touch of defiance. It was enough to stir Loki from his fazed state when he lunged forward and grasped the soldier with one hand by his throat.

"How are you communicating with Hefnir?" he growled lowly, his expression taut and a lethal look in his piercing gaze.

"How do you think, my prince?" he teased mockingly.

"Is it in your hideout?" he snapped his question at him.

"Wait, what is?" Vera called out, unable to discern what Loki was referring to.

"They're using portals to move from our realm to Jotunheim," he pointed out, his eyes still trained on their captive. Bard was now breathing heavily through clenched teeth, and there was a pause where he didn't speak at all. Loki squeezed harder, and repeated himself.

"Where is it?"

Bard was resolved to stay silent now, despite all the information he had already provided them. Maybe he believed he was better off dead now that he had exposed the ugly truth behind the misdeeds of the Einherjar. Maybe he was afraid of Hefnir.

"You know, I wanted to give you the opportunity to speak for yourself, but now you've taken the fun out of it," the prince said with an exasperated coyness in his voice, before his hand turned its attention to Bard's temple, entering the chasm of his mind's thoughts, searching for the information he needed.

Bard looked dazed, transfixed by the touch, and Vera couldn't help but wonder if that's how she appeared to Loki when he had gone through her mind, as if he were flicked the pages through one of his books.

But just as stupefied as Bard looked, Loki was also lost in concentration, his eyes closed shut, brows furrowed with the small creases on his forehead. The time went by for some minutes when eventually, he pulled away and turned to face Vera.

"It's not in their base."

"Where, then?" she asked, noticing how Bard had remained in his trance. Loki followed her gaze and regarded Bard with dismissiveness.

"It's one of the neighbouring rock formations, they've been using the portal in its opening." He seemed to be barely acknowledging the soldier, as if the chair could have been entirely empty.

"Can you erase his memories, or-" she began but was interrupted almost abruptly, and there was a tinge of nervousness in his reassurance.

"It's taken care of." Just as he spoke, a gleaming shade of green enveloped Bard, restoring his bruised skin to its original paleness, the wrist burns healed in moments.

"He won't remember any of it, but we need to go," he continued, his voice calmer now, extending his hand to Lara. She took it in her own without hesitation, and instantly, their surroundings were warped into that of his chambers.

"Is there something wrong?" she inquired of him, both standing still for a time. But he made it clear that he didn't wish to make a reply to her question.

"Nothing out of the ordinary," he spoke coolly, though it did little to dissuade Vera.

"Nothing about this is ordinary, Loki," she groaned, watching as he gave his back to her, pacing away from her while she continued more loudly.

"How do you expect us to stop this… Hefnir, if you can't even trust me?" He froze in his steps, returning to face her and in a flickering motion, he was towering over her, an icy glare in his eyes while his breath felt fiery against her cheek.

"Do you really believe that trust is something we share? Have you not learnt anything since you met me? Or are you that blind?" He delivered the words like a cruel blow, mocking her with his insinuations, deeming her weak by her suspected subjectivity to him.

"If you didn't trust me, you would have killed me by now," she retorted quickly, trying to maintain his stern gaze with the severity of her own.

"You were a spectacle to quell my dull days, and now you're here seeking my help because you couldn't handle your own mess," Loki's eyes had widened, and the condescension only infuriated her further.

"I came here to warn you, you ungrateful menace!"

"Are you so concerned about your pretender prince?" he exclaimed in a voice at level with hers. She didn't hold back when she promptly hissed her answer.

"I might have been." And with that, she twisted abruptly on her heels and treaded towards his bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

* * *

It had been about as silent as a crypt in the prince's chambers, save for the sloshing of water that could be heard from what he could only assume was the bathtub. Loki flicked pages of a random book he selected from his abundant shelves, unsure of what he was even reading.

Instead, he was lost in conflicted thoughts, on one hand believing himself to be in the right, unwilling to even comprehend apologising, and yet on the other… He had always been a resolved individual, and had learnt how important it was to never waver before an opponent. But what relation did that have to Vera? Why did he have this compulsion to antagonise her the way the world had done to him?

Stubborn as he was, he did more than entertain the thought of his arrogance, but eventually found himself delving further into it. _Always so perceptive of everyone but yourself_. The words had rung true on many a day when the prince dwelt on his past actions, though the present demanded acknowledgement now, and for once he seemed willing to give it.

Maybe it was the thought of her knowing his real heritage, that he was to seek out his birthfather's heir, in a world which he thought he was finally rid of. Or the proximity of her, one which he was far from accustomed to. And whatever she brought out of him, he wasn't prepared to unveil it.

But time was moving on its own course, and he was only left to adjust or falter. He knew that soon enough, and stood from his divan, walking almost silently to the door which led to Vera, and gently rapped at the wooden surface.

"Are you going to stay cooped up in there until I apologise?" he spoke so lowly, suddenly he wasn't sure if he was even heard. "Vera?" he pronounced her name more clearly.

"It's not a bad place to start," was the answer he was awarded, but her tone didn't sound as biting as that of her previous rebuffs. He swallowed, and was inwardly glad that she wasn't staring at him as he found the words.

"You were right, I was… unappreciative of your efforts. I spoke without better judgement of that." There was the sound of sloshing again, but no response on her part. He stood beside the doorframe, waiting for her to speak when he was taken aback as she appeared before him, opening the door so unexpectedly that it seemed a blur to him.

She was in one of his robes, her wet hair let down, darker against the velvety emerald that covered her frame. It was fastened just below her ribs, leaving him to glance at the curves of her accentuated hips. He caught himself after a brief moment, though she eyed him warily.

"Did you just say that I was right?" she finally said, a slightly incredulous look on her face, leaning against the other end of the frame.

"I'm not sure, did I?" he replied with a feigned air of uncertainty.

"It sounded like it." She crossed her arms, otherwise unmoving from her position.

"Well, don't get used to it."

"On the contrary, if these moments are as rare as you claim then I will make the best of them," she replied sheepishly before flashy a toothy grin at him.

He in turn rolled his eyes at her as he stepped backwards, and then sat at the edge of his bed, letting out a sigh, whether if it was relief or dread, he wasn't sure.

"So what are we supposed to do about Hefnir?" she said curiously, still resting against the doorframe.

"You're not coming, Vera," he spoke bluntly, turning to her with an expression that showed how resolved he was, as if his mind were already made up. She in turn was taken aback by this, but refused to be swayed by his pronouncement.

"Of course I am, do you think you would have even known about him if it weren't for me?"

"And as I said, I'm appreciative of that, but you're too close to this already," he explained vaguely, staring at his hand as he did so.

"Loki," she said quietly, motioning to sit beside him, leaving a few inches of space between them. "I'm being hunted for seeking out a coup faction that wants to rid Asgard of you, and as much as I would love to keep this target on my back, I think I'd rather go to the source."

"You might see a lot more than you asked for," he mumbled, though he was heard well enough.

"I think we've covered that aspect well enough," she replied nonchalantly, fighting the urge to look smug at the insinuation she made.

"Are you always this persistent?" He wished that he was growing tiresome of her wit, yet he knew he was only furthering her efforts to convince him.

"I've asked myself the same question about you far too often." She lifted one leg so that she could face him better, her spine elongated as she twisted in his direction. He met her gaze, his eyes barely blinking.

"I suppose the freezing climate, or the perilous nature of the mission, or the consequences of getting caught will do little to alter your decision?"

"Danger has the tendency to intrigue me, and I'm not afraid of getting caught because you're the one parading as the highest form of justice and power in the realm," she pointed out gladly with conviction.

"And what of the bitter cold?" he posed, awaiting her answer intently.

"I believe there are a few things we can do to keep warm," she said, her lips in a taut line though there was no mistaking what she was alluding to, at least according to Loki. He swore that he could catch a mischievous glimmer in her eye.

"I'm not sure if the conditions there will hinder it but a fire is usually reliable," she added, suddenly dismissing whatever innuendo she could have hinted at.

"I hope not," he said quietly, actually concerned with what conditions they would find in the ruined realm.

 **A/N: hey everyone, sorry it's been a while since I've updated my threads, one of my relatives passed so I haven't been in much of state to write but anyways, uni is taking a priority too but I still want to keep the updates consistent, meantime I hope you know how appreciative I am for your understanding and patience, enjoy the latest entry xxx**


	7. Unlikely Alliance

"You summoned me, Father?" the deep voice of Thor Odinson rang in the empty Throne Room, along with the thudding sound of his footsteps as he walked across the hall. He wore his usual metal armour, though no cape or helmet, strands of his tousled golden locks stuck to his forehead, from which beads of sweat trickled. His entire body was glistening, and it was evident that he was in the middle of training.

"I have some important matters to discuss with you, my son," the hoarse tone of Odin replied, seated imperiously on his usurped throne.

Thor knelt at the steps which separated them, his head bowed, awaiting whatever it was that Loki would disclose through the guise of their father.

"There are some matters I must attend to," he began coolly, eyeing his brother with a will that would not be questioned. "I need you to rule in my stead while I am gone."

Thor looked confounded, and was speechless for a moment before he voiced his own thoughts.

"Might I ask what matters you are referring to?" he asked, his eyes squinted in his state of puzzlement.

"The nature of my business is my concern, not yours." And with that, Loki had risen from his seat and started making his way to one of the side entrances when his brother called out after him.

"Must you insist on keeping me in the dark?" the plea left the god's lips before he even realised how childish he must have sounded in his father's eyes. Without turning to face him, Loki pursed the chapped lips of his guise before making his reply.

"I do not intend to hold your hand through every dark abyss, son." The chilling words left Thor speechless, and then, as if he couldn't take any further provocations from his King, he stormed out.

"You think it best he remains unaware that those sworn to him are disloyal?" Vera vocalised once she heard the door being shut behind the infuriated prince.

"What could he do? The moment he discovers he's outnumbered, he'll do something rash and they will enact war sooner rather than later," Loki spoke in the raspy voice which didn't belong to him.

"Can you really be that sure?" she peered up at him as she turned from behind one of the tall pillars to face him.

"I can't, I can only rely on what is likely, and I know my brother," the prince stated contemplatively.

"What difference will it make? Once they see Odin is away, they'll have just as much cause to press an attack on the realm."

"And what do you suggest? I send you alone to Jutonheim?" he replied impatiently.

"If it's the safer bet, I would not object to it." She looked at him with all the seriousness she could muster, and he returned it with a tang of reproach in his answer.

"You wouldn't last a day in their realm, you're already at a disadvantage in combat if one of them so much as touches you," he pointed out, to which she attempted to humour him.

"Are you always so fiercely protective of your allies?" she spoke with one eyebrow arched, staring at Loki quizzically.

"Their ability to inflict frost bite," he corrected her notions, which made her raise another question.

"Wouldn't we share that same disadvantage, then?" It made him pause, seeking to make sure that he wouldn't reveal the truth about his heritage.

"I can cast decoy illusions, be in more than one place at a time and you expect me to believe that you stand a fighting chance without me?" Vera noticed how hard he was gripping at the arm rest with one hand, his knuckles almost as white as the hair he donned.

She paused, and sighed when she decided to give in to his unshakeable resolve.

"Fine," she muttered resignedly.

"You dare take that tone with your king?" he said, his blue eyes squinting at her slightly.

"Of course not, but seeing as he's not here…" she trailed in her muse. Loki transformed himself into his true form, and began descending the steps towards her unmoving body, which was resting against the pillar.

"You truly ought to be punished for such insubordination." The sultry quality of his voice was plain and it took some effort on Vera's part not to be taken aback by his change in demeanour. Instead, she found herself encouraging him.

"Feel free to do your worst, then," she dared him with her words as well as her eyes, and once he neared her, he placed a hand on her arm, and their environment was thwarted into that of his room, his face barely inches from hers. It wasn't a long while that they lingered in this tempting embrace before one of them spoke.

"How does an Asgardian Collar sound?" he posed to her, to which she snorted at him. It seemed out of character for her, but he wasn't planning on telling her that, in fact he liked seeing her smile as she did.

"Well, I wouldn't be able to say if I had one on, now would I?" she pointed out. He too gave a slight grin at her, and then turned his attention to the matter at hand.

"If the cave opening they're using is the one I suspect, we could use a skiff to get there and through the portal," he said as he rummaged through one of the chest of drawers in his room, looking for anything useful.

"A skiff? Through there?" Vera looked at him incredulously. "How is that possible?"

"It's not as if I haven't done it before," he murmured almost to himself, pausing as he was made to reconsider. "No, we cannot risk getting caught if the portal is well-hidden," he countered his own suggestion, followed by her own.

"If you won't be able to spot it, then the smart thing would be to sneak in the cave, find it, and pass through without crashing a flying vessel into everything."

He found himself laughing inwardly at her reasoning, and only replied with "If only my brother were ever that sensible."

"If you expressed half the things you said to me to Thor, you'd be the one sporting a collar," she made a quick retort, earning from him a shrug, as if there was some truth in her point.

"I've handled worse things," he murmured lowly.

"Imagine what he'll do when he finds out that you're alive, then." She

"He'll probably try to kill me himself this time," he had said as a wry smile played on his face.

* * *

They walked out of the palace in the night, disguised as guards, as Loki was able to fashion appearances out of thin air with a mere thought. Vera carried a bag filled with provisions for their journey, and made their way to one of the skiff ports that were situated all around the exterior of the palace.

Suspicious eyes were never laid upon them, but rather simple nods of acknowledgement or courteous salutations, which they returned with ease, as if they had done it a million times already.

Once Loki entered the skiff after Vera, he had barely touched the lever when the gruff voice of a guard called out to them.

"What's your business for leaving?"

"Patrolling the region of drunks and fools, unfortunately," the prince replied casually, feigning a hint of irritation at the thought of his dreaded job.

"Why the sack, then?" he pointed out curiously, gesturing at the bag of provisions.

"Oh, well, he's not going to admit it but since the last feast, his breastplate's gotten a little uncomfortable, so we're taking it to a smith to be reshaped," Loki spoke up from behind Vera.

"The All-father spoils his soldiers too well for their own good," the guard said with finality as he turned to return to his post, turning his back to them.

When he was out of earshot, Vera muttered "Was that honestly the best you could come up with?"

"Seemed like the most plausible at the time," he snapped in a hushed tone.

"More like 'the most amusing' in other words," she countered quickly, before slipping onto her side as Loki's hand ran smoothly over the lever and swerved the skiff abruptly in the direction that they needed to take.

"You're insufferable," she groaned, bracing herself with one arm on the side of the vessel as she lifted herself up.

"Are you quite done complaining?" Loki inquired of her nonchalantly, to which she simply rolled her eyes and huffed out a low sigh of frustration.

As opposed to the suddenness of the purposeful jolt, the skiff then glided through the air like a bird, just as his palms guided the golden mechanism almost lazily, and yet there was experience in his movements, and when Vera watched him as he trained his eyes forward, it seemed like he wasn't moving the thing at all.

When they had created some distance, Loki had retired their guises, and were sporting long black hooded cloaks.

"Does any of this appear familiar to you?" the prince asked, still not looking at her, while she in turn was already taking in her surroundings. If it had been daytime, she would have considered the area almost unrecognisable, but she spotted certain things which jogged her memory.

A stray rock a few feet away from a higher precipice, the faint glimmer of the Bifrost bridge that shone from a distance, a clear frame of another tall rocky surface.

"We need to take a slight left after that rock," she said, moving closer to him so she could point as well as she could, and that his eyes would follow hers.

"And after that?" His back was to her, and as she stood beside him, she could feel the warmth through the fabric which clothed him. Her senses were heightened especially in the chill of the evening, along with the breeze that accompanied their movement in the air. She wondered how much colder it would be once they reached Jotunheim.

"It's straight ahead," she enunciated.

They had been travelling for a good number of minutes when he again spoke some thought which preoccupied his mind, and was too inconclusive for him to provide an explanation of his own.

"How in Valhalla did you swim through all this?" he wondered in a soft murmur, taking a moment to glance over his shoulder at her.

"I'm not sure, maybe there's a siren ancestor I never knew I had," she mused, unable to give an explanation either.

"I should steer clear of you, then," he spoke under his breath, though she wasn't sure if she had heard him correctly.

"What?" she asked, but was left without an answer when he spotted the clearest cave opening.

"There it is," he deduced, and when she saw it herself, she skipped a beat. The height from which the opening was to the water, the leap which she had taken, she felt her head spin as her mind took her back to that moment. It rendered her momentarily nauseous.

"The very same," she agreed. They returned to their previous disguises, and they could notice a shadow of a figure next to a torch light at the cavern's entrance. They halted the vessel as close to the opening as possible, stepping out in their Einherjar armour. Greeted coldly with a suspecting gaze, the gatekeeping soldier addressed them and then inquired about Odin's departure.

"What have you heard from the palace?" Vera now realised that the guard who was speaking to them was the one which she had knocked senseless before her escape, when she glimpsed the grey bruise on his temple.

"He's placed his halfwit of a son in charge until he returns, though no one knows when he'll be back," Vera answered in a low tone. The smirk playing on Loki's lips was probably genuine, she thought to herself as she glimpsed it from the corner of one eye.

"And what news from the Jotuns?" the prince chimed in, eying the unsuspecting soldier with a keen interest. Vera clutched the sack of food in one hand, her eyes moving from one speaker to the other.

"The rebels are still pushing back. Still won't be long before we take them, I think," he shrugged as he responded.

For a split second, the two of them shared a look of surprise, but Vera brushed off the new information like it was meaningless.

"Most resistances never really last, anyway," Vera agreed, and the soldier motioned to return to his task of being gatekeeper.

"You two'd best be off, Bard'll want every soldier preparing for the next raid."

"Of course," Loki concurred almost absentmindedly, patting his partner on the shoulder as if to state they should go. It looked effortless but the tug on her armour was there, as was the unease in his demeanour once they paced further into the cavern, his cold eyes almost blank, illuminated by the warm glow of the torch in his hand.

"Sigurd never said anything about a resistance," she spoke the words quickly in a hushed tone.

"I know," he whispered back, his mind going over the newly introduced variable and what implications it posed for them.

"But think about it, they're fighting one conscious enemy while the Asgardians aren't even aware of any of it, maybe they can't afford to face two opposing armies at a time," she reasoned as quietly as her voice would allow.

"What army, Vera? We have no knowledge of what numbers we possess, or that of this resistance, for the matter," he countered, though his stride didn't falter, his gaze trained on various different features on the walls, looking for signs of an opening.

"If we were as helpless as you claim, we'd more likely be under the rule of a Jotun." Her retort had no effect on his exterior, though it fazed his mind for a moment. No, of course there could never be a Jotun on the throne, Odin made certain of that.

"You said there were lower levels?" he inquired evasively, knowing that there was no point dwelling on a subject which encompassed more particulars than they were aware of.

Vera looked around while trying to retrace her steps from that faithful night. It was hardly noticeable but once she spotted the stray torchlight amidst a uniform arrangement of lighting and doorways, she knew.

"Through that passage," she answered finally, leading the way as he followed closely behind. They descended the staircase briskly, as it was momentarily empty. When they found themselves in the corridor, it was strangely apparent that several of the doors were wide open, void of any light.

However, the distant, muffled sound of speech made the pair enter one, as Vera snuffed the torch and roughly nudged Loki into the nearest room. Unable to see the layout of the room, and unwilling to shut the door lest the soldiers notice the oddity, the woman held them both against a point on the wall not as far from the door as she would've liked, yet it was better than risking knocking something over. She set the bag down slowly, hoping that the darkness would mask their presence. She leaned into him as the voices grew louder, closer.

"…bitch's been ruining every one of our ploys," one of the speakers proclaimed, his tone irritated.

"Bard won't listen to Sigurd, he thinks it's a mercy killing her," the other replied, sharing in the frustration of the first.

"It doesn't have to be, she'll wish she were dead after I'm through with her."

"Are you that awful with the ladies?" the second chided, and Vera could hear a quick scraping of metal on metal, followed by short burst of laughter.

"I'll admit, she's a slippery one. All these secret attempts made against her and none ever successful." The glow of their torch grew larger, though it seemed that they were too preoccupied in their sickening jests to detect anything unusual.

"Well, as much as I'd like to wait in line to teach her who's in charge, we can't make the mistake of underestimating her again." In the flash of a few moments, Vera could see the the glint of their armour with the reflection of the torches along the walls.

Her heart was beating so loudly, she couldn't make out the rest of their conversation, nor did she want to, in any case. Had there been no risk, she would have taken out the rage that they coaxed from her and given it back to them in broken ribs and twisted limbs.

But there was fear beside that rage, that which quieted the fire which often consumed her mind. Fear that her determination to protect her realm would not be enough, especially when they had barely glimpsed the surface of what they were up against.

Vera hadn't even registered that the voices had receded into faint murmurs once again, until Loki made a low cough, his chest rumbling under her own palm. Then she saw that she was no longer peering at a disguise, but at him.

"Seems you're very popular in these parts," he simply whispered, though his face was mute of expression. She raised her hand to slap him, though as they both expected, he caught it, holding her tightly by the wrist. "Later," he muttered, before saying something she hadn't expected.

"They won't ever lay their hands on you," his voice was softer than the previous jab, which startled her, staring at him in a moment of vulnerability. But just as quickly as it took her by surprise, did it pass and make way for an automatic defensiveness.

"I don't need your protection," she recoiled defiantly, and despite Loki's desire to point to the contrary, he kept his silence and cursed his actions inwardly. _What are you doing_ , he thought to himself.

She pulled away from him, and he cast a glow of emerald from his hands so they could examine the room. There were vacant chains bolted to the walls, a tray of rusty tools, and then he caught the flash of fresh crimson, and her gaze followed after the light he casted.

Before he could risk her reaction, he used his hand to grab around Vera, placing it over her mouth, which was agape. Her gasp was silenced, and the sudden darkness did not make her feel less uneasy.

"Stay calm," he urged her, holding her still for a time before she eventually nodded, and as he slowly let go, he cast the light in the direction of the bloodied source. And there it was, festering before their wide eyes.

The body was that of an Einherjar, stripped of most of his armour, and portions of flesh were missing from his limbs, from which most of the blood had oozed onto the cold rock on which he lay. The state of his tortured, shackled body was so horrific that they hadn't realised that he was blinded as well. The gruesome result was partly obscured by long strands of hair, yet the darkness which hid behind it became too clear to ignore.

Vera gulped down, unable to bring herself to look away.

"They always said that the monsters existed beyond our borders," she spoke in a strained tone, "the ones we waged wars against. How wrong they were." And with that, she treaded out of the room, retrieving the sack from the ground while Loki remained fixed to the spot, unblinking.

"We need to keep moving," Vera said in a low murmur, snapping Loki out of the nightmarish scene before him.

The pitch black hue of their cloaks granted them more cover than the pretence of being traitor soldiers. For a time they remained silent, still taken aback by what they had seen. It was the prince who broke the quiet.

"I don't think they're conforming willingly," he muttered under his breath. "At least not all of them," he elaborated.

"But why torture if they could have just killed him outright? They must be bloody sadistic-"

"Or they need the numbers," Loki countered calmly. "They would've disposed of his body, it's more likely they left him as is to be a warning, so the soldiers think twice before questioning their command."

"What if he knew something he wasn't meant to know?" she posed, to which he uttered her own words.

"Then they would've killed him outright." Nevertheless, he meditated on the possibility, so as to avoid jumping to conclusions. But as he began to consider alternative explanations, they had reached a corner in the corridor and had he never seen a portal before, he would have kept on walking.

Yet he sensed it on the wall of rock, like a rippling wave in a deceivingly calm sea. It pulsated in the air, just hovering over the rough surface. "Vera," he whispered to her, making her stop in her tracks.

"What, Loki?" she asked restlessly.

"I found it," he turned from the portal to her, and back to their exit point. He extended his hand to her, while she stood still, as if she were rethinking everything. Swallowing down her hesitation, she gripped his hand hard, her gaze moving from the physical contact to his eyes, which were peering at her, possibly studying her for signs of doubt.

"You trust me?" he asked her, his expression nearing benevolent, though there was an element of anxiousness. She thought that he too may be uncertain.

She was about to voice her tentative reply, and then decided against it, instead tugging at him tightly as she leapt forward, bringing them both through the shimmery veil.

 **A/N: hey everyone, sorry it's been so long, my reading list's been ridiculous and I had a bit of a block for a while but thankfully xmas is getting closer and I can finally have a bit of a breather, anyways hope you enjoyed the latest chapter, thanks for being so patient :)**


	8. Nobody Home

It was as if she had experienced the stabbing of a dozen blades when her body began to shudder in the biting cold. Hugging her coat desperately to her, as if she would go entirely numb, she picked herself up from the frost upon which she landed. No words could describe how glad she was for the fabric which enveloped her body, still the breeze remained persistent.

Vera sharpened her focus as well as she could despite the air filled with falling snow, and for a time there was nothing but a vast, bleak expanse of white, blurring out the dull bluish grey of the sky.

Loki on the other hand was feigning through the cold as he rose from the snow, well aware that his body was more tolerant to such an environment. He was born for it, no matter what anyone else believed, no matter what his mother told him.

Nevertheless, he shivered slightly, keeping up the appearance for his travelling companion. He knew better than to imagine what reaction she would give to such a revelation, how her perception of him would be thwarted in the spilling of a single truth, and yet he began to wonder for a moment, before immediately pushing the thought away.

"A simple 'yes' or 'no' would have sufficed," he simply uttered, a hint of irritation in his voice.

"I… well, what can I say? I panicked," she retorted through clenched teeth, turning to face one way and then another, looking around for any sign of shelter.

"I think we may have stumbled into a snowstorm," she surmised while he too examined their surroundings.

"It might be the beginning of one, doesn't mean we should linger," he countered, eager to start walking but no idea where his exertions would lead.

"Do you see anything?" Vera asked.

"Give me a minute." There was no way that he could make out the unfamiliar terrain from where they stood. Instead, he split himself into a few duplicate forms, all of which marched off into different directions, while the original remained behind. Vera watched him register what these extensions of himself could map out, his expression marked by attentiveness more than anything else.

The sounds of their footsteps grew lighter, as if they were sprinting in the snow. She exhaled mists of warm air as she shook, pacing around him to keep herself warm.

"Could you just stay still for a moment?" Loki inquired, his eyes closed as if his focus were strained.

"Yes, of course. Then you can carry my frozen, lifeless corpse when you're done," she huffed, her hands cupped over her mouth.

"Don't be ridiculous," he muttered, faking the trembling in his voice, "why would I carry you?"

Fighting the urge to hit him, Vera stuck to rolling her eyes when something abruptly caught his attention.

"Wait…" he paused, his brows creasing in concentration. "My left, there's a structure," the prince remained motionless, while her hands rubbed over her arms under the cloak. "Wh-What else?" she managed, barely able to suppress the chattering.

"It's not as if I can see all that well in all this weather, believe it or not," he retorted impatiently. "From what I can tell, it's a ruin, but there's hollow spaces."

"Any sign of occupants?" Somehow she knew that his answer would not dissuade her. She'd do anything to be rid of the oppressive winds which numbed her so.

"Would it make any difference to you?" he answered back, still assessing the ruin from the eyes of his duplicate.

"At this rate, not in the slightest." She reached for the sack on the ground which they brought with them, and flung it over her shoulder.

"Why am I not surprised?" Loki's eyes flickered open, and gave her a sideways-glance before trodding east, his feet disappearing and resurfacing in the white frost, leaving Vera to follow as brusquely as her legs would allow her, carrying the sack of provisions over her back.

They had walked for some minutes until Loki stopped for a moment and turned to face her, and reached for the bag. "Give it."

"It's fine, I can manage," she shrugged his blunt offer aside, but it only made him persist.

"Vera, you're shaking… I don't want to end up carrying both you and the bag," he grumbled, walking after her as she stubbornly refused to concede. His concern earned from her lips a small chuckle of disbelief.

"I thought you said you wouldn't carry me," she kept moving, though she felt a chill spreading in her legs.

He shook his head. "Dead carcasses attract unwanted attention," he attempted to hide the sentiment with logic, though she felt a smile creep on her face.

"Which is why I want to speed up our progress," he added before snatching the bag from her stiffened fingers.

"Suit yourself," she sighed, though there was no denying how eager she was to warm her hands again.

"You're welcome," he bit back, and so they silently marched on, the only sounds the crushed snow under them, and the howling breeze.

* * *

Loki was unsure as to how far the structure was, the single pair of eyes only marked it from a distance, and after what seemed like an hour, he hoped that it wasn't his imaginings. He decided to conjure a duplicate once more, and sent it running ahead while he paced alongside Vera, who was no longer lagging behind.

"You c-can give it to me if y-you're tired!" she called out, the wind growing louder and more ferocious.

"Leave it!" he replied in kind, his eyes forward, following the extension of himself intently. Their vision was blurred by the snow, but they pressed on.

"I'm almost there!" he uttered to the woman, finding that his duplicate had arrived at about a mile's distance from the site.

"Are we g-gonna have a run-in?" she became almost nervous, wondering now if she could summon what little strength she had to fight her way in.

"Lost your sense of bravado, have you?" he deduced, as well as if he had been inside her mind once again. She hated how easily he could read her. She thought better of arguing against him at this point.

"Not much of a f-fighter if I can barely feel m-my limbs," Her body in fact felt rigid all over, and her eyes wept with the cold. "G-good thing they call you th-the silver-tongue, maybe we c-can talk our way out of confrontation," she added.

He laughed inwardly, and just as he was about to say something, the ruins finally came into view.

"It's th-there!" Vera cried out with relief, seeing the small silhouette of the duplicate disappear into the chilly air as if it had been blown out of existence. In her sudden agitation she stumbled onto the frost, and the overwhelming numbness in her body made her curse aloud.

Struggling to get on her feet, Loki was at her side, his outstretched hand around her waist as he hoisted her up. "Can you stand?" he asked, still maintaining his grip for fear that she might collapse again.

"I-I'm sorry, I was overexcited," she reasoned as her own arms curled around her chest, her shivering more insistent.

"Well, I'm accustomed to women falling clumsily around me." She could hardly scoff in reproach, though he was quite certain that she would have punched him, had she the strength to do so.

"Alright, you can let go of me now," Vera tried to move forward, but her legs quivered beneath her. Loki was not convinced in the slightest.

"Just hold on to me, we're nearly there anyway," he urged resolutely, ignoring her feeble attempts at escaping his arm. Feeling her feet drag as she moved had slowed them down, but after some time, they were at the hollow entrance of the towering structure. Parts of it appeared to have dilapidated, the hollow entrance he had seen was where a door had been removed off its hinges.

The stone was the colour of granite, no other openings were to be seen on its front. As they passed under the frame, Loki set the sack down, and with his free hand, produced a flame of emerald no larger than his fist, and yet it set a glow upon the interior of the ruin.

The wind was far less cruel the further inward they paced, and every step Vera took became more solid in contrast to her earlier limping. They could see no sign of habitation, though there were a few entryways that beckoned them to continue inspecting their newfound shelter.

"You may loosen your grip Loki," Vera relieved his shoulder from her own hold, and he gingerly pulled away.

"As you wish," he appeared to shrug in spite of the absence of contact. In all his time as an isolated being, it was strange returning to what should have been a familiar state to him.

Their boots clacked on the ground, and the sound reverberated eerily. Markings unknown to her became visible as she passed by the stone walls, though her strenuous efforts to read it in the dim light were in vain, as the language was undoubtedly Juton.

"They're scrawled all along here," she gestured at a length of the wall's surface, surprisingly smooth under her fingertips. "I don't suppose you know how to read Juton?" Loki motioned towards the wall, the glow in his palm hovering over the script.

"I'm somewhat familiar with the language," he murmured, squinting his eyes at a seemingly random spot. Then the symbols were shifting, and Loki blinked, thinking his eyes were deceiving him. "The words are changing."

"What?" Vera replied, incredulous, bringing her face closer to examine the wall, and she saw it too. "We must have set something off when we arrived," she deduced, and gazed upwards, and then along the sides of the text. Lines and curves in the form of meaningless scribble began to morph, disappear and emerge, until there seemed to be a repetition of the same sequence.

"It's the same sentence," the prince traced the script with his index finger, trying to find the starting point.

"But can you understand it?" she peered at him, trying to figure out the reply from his own concentrated expression.

"You know, your impatience is very trying," he sighed, which only prompted her own defence.

"Well, I apologise for not being so well-adjusted to walls which shift characters around like, like-" she struggled to find the right word, which he exasperatedly provided for her.

"Sorcery?"

"Precisely, but that's because no one else knows how to wield it as well as you, " she spoke honestly, but he couldn't help but defer her meaning.

"Sorry, I got distracted trying to decipher something, are you still talking about sorcery?" he returned coyly, his eyes still trained on the wall before him.

"Of course I'm talking about sorcery! What else would I be referring to?" He had no need to see for himself that she was getting flustered, and yet he continued to unnerve her.

"I had one or two things in mind, now that you mention it," he quipped, his features neutral so as not to betray his inward enjoyment. If she wasn't so cold, the blood in her veins would surely have reddened her cheeks.

"Oh, for Valhalla… You're certainly not too busy to speak your filthy mind instead of getting somewhere with the markings," she rolled her eyes in resignation, twisting on her heels, leaving her back to him.

"I already did, I was just trying to get you fired up, you seemed in desperate need of that." He turned to see her reaction, and he found her craning her neck and shooting such a glare that he grinned back at her, no longer able to hide his self-satisfaction.

"Thank you for being so concerned," the sarcasm in her voice as clear as her weariness of his typical jests.

"You're thanking me, that's a first," he pointed out in mock astonishment.

"What does the wall say?" she retorted, ignoring his goading.

"'Tyrant is approaching the southern base. We're losing time, eastern battlements compromised.'"

"A distress call? On a wall?" Vera arched a brow in mystification. "They're innovative, I'll admit."

"Quite, which begs the question of who _they_ are," Loki began, abruptly twisting his entire body till they could look one another in the eye, despite blinding nature of the bright glow in his palm. "'Tyrant', seems like Hefnir's making enemies."

"Maybe, or an outsider, I'm sure there are many who are considered to be oppressors… That with the Chitauri army-"

Loki gave an almost-sardonic laugh at the thought of New York, though the memory of the power-hungry warlord, the unrelenting influence of the mind stone, it made him uneasy. "Vera, if Thanos were the enemy in question, it would have been long past since he laid waste to this forsaken realm."

"Fine, supposing it _is_ Hefnir, what do we make of this? He's mobilising the Einherjar to subdue rebels?"

"It would appear so."

"Makes sense… He didn't have a domestic army in place, so he possesses a foreign one-" it was Loki's turn to be cut off.

"To keep the Jutons in line, but we don't know what the statistics are, maybe he still wouldn't have enough to take on Asgard?" Her suggestion hung in the air above them, waiting futilely for some degree of acknowledgement,

"I don't believe you'd be willing to take that chance," the prince replied, eyeing her sternly, though he knew better than to seek reassurance in his conviction.

"Of course not," she returned in the same manner, taking a step forward. "Do not mistake my speculations for ignorance."

He stood still as she neared, his gaze fixed one moment on the lips which moved with resolve, the next onto the irises illuminated with the reflection of his sorcery in her eyes.

"I'm gonna see what else this place has to offer, so unless you want to stay in the dark…" he deferred, his fingers curling slightly into the palm so as to emphasise his point.

"Lead the way," she groaned, following after him into the gloom, as he grinned in the dimness which surrounded them.

 **A/N: honestly I just want to say thanks to those of you who are so patient with the updates, it's probably gonna be a while before I do so again but until then, thank you 3**


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